


26th of June 2010

by Nicor_Fyrweorm



Series: Last of the Time Lords [15]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Donna is Donna, Gen, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29964360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicor_Fyrweorm/pseuds/Nicor_Fyrweorm
Summary: “The Doctor will be the heart of the explosion. All the cracks in time will close, but he'll be on the wrong side, trapped in the never-space, the void between the worlds. All memory of him will be purged from the universe. He will never have been born.”Or, the 26th of June 2010 for the Doctor's companions - in a universe where the Doctor was never born.
Relationships: Donna Noble/Shaun Temple
Series: Last of the Time Lords [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1511825
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	1. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All of time and space, ready for the next adventure,” she whispers almost too softly to be heard, and a tear slips down her cheek.
> 
> Or, the 26th of June 2010 in the Temple-Noble household.

Awareness is a funny thing. There's the regular kind, when you're awake and notice the world all around you. When you're asleep, though, things change. Your body notices things, influencing your dreams or even waking you up. But then, there are also those moments, when you're asleep but you notice something going on around you that doesn't merit waking up for. 

When you sleep with a partner, that's more than obvious. At first, you notice every shift, every point of contact, every breath. Then, as you grow used to sharing a bed, you stop noticing so much, only becoming aware of big changes, like thrashing from a nightmare, or pained whimpers, and the disappearance as one or the other goes to the bathroom. 

So, Shaun notices when Donna sits up, in that asleep yet aware kind of feeling he's become used to, but doesn't bother waking up. Until he hears her chocked sob, that is. 

“Donna? Love, it's alright. It's just a nightmare, you're home,” he calls, pushing himself into waking up, as soon as her distress registers in his mind. 

Donna has strange dreams most often than not, but she also has nightmares, more rarely. Shaun knows it, has known since they met, at the cafe they frequented when she temped at the legal firm across the street from Shaun's shop. To think a bump in a coffee shop led him to meet the love of his life… He would call it cliche – except he met Donna because the man he bumped into started giving Shaun a tough time, and Donna jumped to his rescue. That was the moment he started admiring her. Then, when they sat down and started talking, day after day after day, is when he began to love her. 

And lucky him, Donna loved Shaun back. 

But he's digressing. The point is that, thanks to those coffee shop chats, back when they first got to know each other, Shaun knows about her weird dreams. Whenever she came in with a distracted expression, he knew he could expect the retelling of a bizarre yet amazing dream. If she came in excitedly, it was fifty-fifty, maybe something happened at the office which was within the realm of things she could talk about because, legal firm, she couldn't tell _everything_ to the boy who worked in the shop across the street. 

And Shaun listened, but most importantly, he paid attention. He learnt the hard way that Donna didn't expect anyone to actually listen to her when she rambled, the moment he asked her who was the murderer of the party she'd attended with, of all people, Agatha Christie. She'd looked so _shocked_ to see someone listened to her… 

Shaun had been in disbelief that she'd expect everyone to ignore her, but later, after she'd cheerfully recounted her dream and they'd gone each their own way, he'd thought about it more deeply and found it deeply saddening. And, surprisingly enough at the time, he'd found himself, Shaun, getting angry at the world on Donna's behalf. She didn't deserve people thinking less of her or that she wasn't special or worth listening to. She was witty and strong-willed and determined and radiant and gorgeous and – Yeah, well. Next time they'd seen each other at the coffee shop, Shaun had _finally_ asked her on a proper date. 

She'd hesitated, but it wasn't because of Shaun. 

Apparently, she liked him too, but there was this nagging feeling at the back of her mind that maybe, just maybe, he would like some more time or someone better than a temp from Chiswick— 

For what had to be the first time in his life, Shaun had interrupted someone without a hint of guilt or hesitation. 

“The only person I think is better than Donna Noble, temp from Chiswick, is Donna Noble, the woman I'm going on a date with.” 

It had been the _cheesiest_ thing he'd ever said, and taking into account Shaun is prone to cheesiness every now and then, that's quite an achievement. But it had been enough for Donna, because she had smiled that small smile that was somehow more radiant than her large amused grins, and accepted. 

One date had led to another, and another, and another… And here they are now. Shaun and Donna. Happily married, and awake at who knows what time of night because Donna had a nightmare. 

Shaun doesn't blame her for that, he never will. 

He knows, from Wilf and Sylvia, that Donna was systematically poisoned by her would-be-fiancé to test some new drug for who-knows-which-bastard, and how it reacted badly and led her to losing a good chunk of her memories, which left behind the weird and distorted memories that sometimes come up as bizarre dreams. It isn't Donna's fault. He'll never blame her for it. He just wishes _he_ could do more for her, especially when she has the nightmares instead of the dreams. 

But he can't. So, he sits up and tugs her gently against his chest, reassuring her that she's home, with him, and that they're safe. 

“But the stars… They're all gone, the stars. The universe never existed, there was a total event collapse, the universe will never have existed…” she sobs, clinging to Shaun like _he_ is the one who will vanish like he never existed in the first place. 

Which… well, it's a really bizarre thought, but _maybe_ he could see where she's coming from if this was a sci-fi show. 

The strangest thing of all in there is that Shaun has never seen Donna with a sci-fi book, film, show, comic, _anything._ As far as Shaun knows, she's not into sci-fi or any of the 'big' sciences. 'Major' sciences? No, focus, wake up, Donna needs you. 

Yes, Donna needs him. And this time, weird sci-fi or not, he can help her better than just hug her fears away. 

“That's alright, love. Come look, the stars didn't go anywhere. Here, let's go to the window,” he suggests, gently pushing the blankets away and helping Donna to her feet as they get up and move to the curtains— 

The moment Shaun pushes them away, he feels the breath catch in his throat. There are no stars, the moon is hanging on the sky all on its lonesome, and the universe has gone dark. A second later, the trees wave as wind ruffles them, and the clouds shift enough to reveal some bright pinpoints of light behind them. 

Shaun relaxes with a relieved sigh, and feels Donna lean more heavily into his side as she calms down too. 

“There. All the stars in the universe, all up there waiting for you,” he tells Donna, smiling at her, and despite the redness in her eyes, she manages a wobbly smile too. 

“All of time and space, ready for the next adventure,” she whispers almost too softly to be heard, and a tear slips down her cheek. 

Shaun wipes it away with a chuckle, falling in love with her all over again as he carefully turns her face around so she looks at him instead of at the stars, because she's starting to look nostalgic, and that expression after a nightmare never bodes well. 

“Who cares about all of time and space? The only adventure I want is here, right next to me.” 

And Donna smiles, kisses him, and tugs him back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just something that occurred to me while waiting for lunch to cook. I thought that, since it's taking me so long to get the next instalment of _Last of the Time Lords_ out, at least I could give you all these short scenes, about how other characters lived the 26th of June 2010. The plan is to have _Eve_ and _Morning_ in there too, hence the title of this one.
> 
> (Also, I miss Donna.)
> 
> It doesn't need to happen in the LotTL verse, but since it is what it is, it could. Just saying. It functions perfectly well as a standalone too, anyway.


	2. Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy takes in a sharp breath and pulls the doll close, hugging it tightly to her chest and pressing its head into her shoulder despite the fact not even that gesture will make her feel the _whatever_ her chest is aching for.
> 
> Or, Amy is going to get married in the morning and she _can't sleep._

Amy stares at the dress. 

It's simple, for a wedding dress, at least when seen from afar. It's an A-line strapless white dress, with flowers at the top and bottom, and a few ones 'falling' down her torso. Simple. Amazingly comfortable. Shame Aunt Sharon hadn't been there when Amy had tried it on for the first time _(because Mom had broken down in tears at the sight, and Amy couldn't hug her while wearing a wedding dress she didn't yet know if she was going to buy)._

It also has a veil, of course, short and with some pearl 'flowers' to attach it to her hair _(they had argued, Mom and Amy, about Amy's hairdo, because Mom thought she would look best if she pulled it up, but Amy only ever pulled it up when she had to cook or needed it out of the way, but luckily, Dad had been there to distract Mom and convince her to let Amy wear her hair as she pleased),_ which, surprisingly enough, Amy is actually excited to put on, despite her reservations that it would be uncomfortable. 

And the shoes, of course. Everything is ready. Everything will be perfect tomorrow. So, Amy stares at the dress and wipes a tear from her eye, wondering why now, of all times, she feels like the floor is breaking open under her feet _(and there's no cool hand to catch her and no playful scowl to remind her Amy is supposed to be the babysitter in this relationship, isn't she?)._

Amy tucks herself in, turning off the light and looking away from the dress to try and get some sleep, she does _not_ want to show up to her own wedding with bags under her eyes. So, she stares at the wall _(and there's no crack there, not anymore, not since screwdrivers of light and magic blue boxes and a big cool hand squeezing her small warm one reassuringly)._

There's some dust on the books on the shelves, Amy notices, judging by the way the moon doesn't properly shine on them. Maybe she should close the curtains, stop getting distracted, but instead, she lets her eyes roam. 

Her books, a third of them about the Roman empire, and three notebooks filled with future Roman Empire fanfiction that Amy has been writing on and off standing proudly next to them. Novels, gifted and bought, a couple picture frames of both family and friends. Her desk, with the mirror and makeup and… 

Amy sits up, frowning softly, but the angle doesn't change what she sees. 

On the chair, that's her Raggedy Doctor suitcase, where she keeps the drawings, stories and dolls she made when she was little. When did she take it out from under the bed? _(The day after the Atraxi, head still reeling, Amy pulls the suitcase out, looks at the widely grinning doll of the Raggedy Doctor, and laughs so long and hard that her sides hurt when she finally stops and puts it, and the TARDIS and little Amelia's doll, on the desk for everyone to see because_ she was right). 

Slowly, careful not to make any noise so as to not wake Aunt Sharon after her long trip _(nor Mom and Dad, the last time Dad caught her sneaking out he gave her the most embarrassing 'use protection' talk Amy has_ ever _been at the end of),_ Amy stands up and approaches the desk. 

It's all there, spread all over the desk. The dolls of the Raggedy Doctor and Amelia are lying next to his doctor box, his time machine in disguise _(his Time And Relative Dimension In Space, his beloved TARDIS),_ and they're all resting on the drawings of giant eyeballs and a shadowy man creeping around as the Raggedy Doctor and Amelia chase after him _(Amy doesn't know what it is, but Prisoner Zero is definitely_ not _what she had imagined in her youth, and she doesn't know whether to be glad that it is so, to help separate imagination from truth, or to be horrified at just_ what _the Doctor deals with on a daily basis)._

There are also fairies and Martians that look like stereotypical gray aliens, and she's fairly sure there are even unicorns and sea monsters in another drawing, but Amy ignores them _(she's seen more wonderful and terrifying things than unicorns and sea monsters)_ in favor of picking the newest Raggedy Doctor doll up. 

It's old and ragged now, but she thinks back to her imaginary friend and smiles, convinced he would enjoy the irony of her choice of words. When compared to her first attempts, she can't help but be proud of it. It almost looks like something that could be bought in a shop, if not for the purposefully ragged state of the doll's clothes. 

It has a wooden round head that Amy painted peach, with a patch of fuzzy lemon-yellow hair glued on top that, even all these years later, still looks too bright in her eyes. The clothes it's clad in are black, with broken patches that she made painstakingly slowly after ripping her previous three attempts, but just like the hair, they aren't exactly right, too itchy when compared to what she remembers of her imaginary friend. 

She _knows_ she's not supposed to 'remember' so much about him, that it was all an invention from a young girl who didn't want to leave Scotland and her friends behind, and imagined someone who would agree that _England is rubbish_ and do things her way. She made her actual friends and fiancé thanks to the Raggedy Doctor, though, so she can't help but smile down at the doll, at the wide grin and impossible eyes _(Mom had frowned down at it when she'd seen her first attempt at a Raggedy Doctor doll, worried about the sharpness of the grin, and had decided that she'd let it go on for too long and it was time Amy saw someone to help her understand the Raggedy Doctor wasn't real, while Dad had been more confused about Amy's choice to use green and brown for the irises and yellow for the pupil)._

“Hello, you. Are you here for my wedding?” she whispers to the doll, sitting on her bed and plopping it against her pillow, feeling stupid yet far more relaxed than she's been all day, despite how well she thinks she had hidden her nervousness. “You're right. After everything we went through, _of course_ you couldn't miss it. Did you bring the well wishes of the Shadow Prison guards?” she asks conversationally, grinning as she imagines his reaction to the words _(he scoffs and rolls his eyes, chastising her with “It's Shadow Proclamation, not Shadow Prison, Amelia. Pay attention!”)._

But the doll just keeps grinning, even as it topples to the side. 

Amy's smile falls, throat tight and something _burning_ in her chest to the point she feels tears pool in her eyes again. 

She reaches for the doll, tentatively at first, but when her hands wrap around the plush cotton-filled torso Rory had helped her sew, instead of the original cardboard one Amy had intended to make, something _snaps._

Amy takes in a sharp breath and pulls the doll close, hugging it tightly to her chest and pressing its head into her shoulder despite the fact not even that gesture will make her feel the _whatever_ her chest is aching for _(“You're here,” he whispers, tremulously lifting his hands to rest on her back, and Amy feels him shiver as she presses her face into his neck and tightens her arms around him, before he gets over his shock and finally returns the hug as tightly as he can without hurting her)._

She curls around the doll and lets out the stupid tears that came out of nowhere, sobbing quietly for an unknown length of time, until they finally run out. 

And then, she curls under her blanket, doll still held tightly to her chest, and the last thing she's aware of before sleep claims her— 

_“My little Amelia Pond… Goodbye.”_

—is a featherlight goodnight kiss on her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That did get out of hand... Amy had a lot more feelings about forgetting the Doctor than I thought she would have. Everything from her picking the doll up and deciding to talk to it are all on her. Good thing she gets her hug in the end of _The End of the Dream,_ or else I would feel _awful._
> 
> One more, _Day_ to go, and only the end of the next instalment left for the main _LotTL_ series. Like I mentioned in _A Chat with Conscience,_ I meant these short scenes to be like _Night & the Doctor_ and _Pond Life_ for _LotTL,_ which is why I left them here, but if you think they should be on a series of their own, that's easy to fix.


End file.
